


Wind and Fire

by soroga



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Camping, Fictional Depictions of Violence, Gen, Ghost Stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-15 21:37:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21260042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soroga/pseuds/soroga
Summary: "Oh! I know what we can do to pass the time!" Mercedes said. "We can tell ghost stories!"Lysithea turned to stare at her in disbelief. Beside her, Ashe coughed. "I don’t know if that’s such a – ""Ghost stories?" Flayn asked, eyes bright.





	Wind and Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beoluve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beoluve/gifts).

> A note on the tags: Mercedes tells a ghost story that involves bad things happening to children. No real (in-universe) children are harmed.

"I think we can safely call this training exercise a complete and utter disaster," Lysithea said.

She’d watched uselessly as Flayn had lit the fire, Seteth hovering protectively over her shoulder, and now they all sat around it, trying to warm the numbness out of their fingers.

It wasn’t even _that_ cold, but she hadn’t been planning for this kind of camping trip. None of them had been until the horses carrying their tents had spooked and run off and Seteth had made them stop searching for them for the night. Seteth had probably been right – they’d only get lost stumbling around in the dark – but it was so creepy out in the open. Lysithea kept hearing distant howls and having to convince herself it was just wild animals.

"I don’t know about that," Ashe said, leaning in closer to the fire himself. "It’s probably good for us to have some rougher camping experience. Honestly, this is better than some places I’ve slept."

"Ugh." Lysithea crossed her arms, but she didn’t argue. Ashe was the one who’d somehow made their field rations edible, after all.

"Well, I for one am glad we’re all together like this," Mercedes said cheerfully from Ashe’s other side. "It could be a lot worse!"

"Good point, Mercedes," Ashe said.

Lysithea really should have factored in how many optimists there were in the Blue Lions House before agreeing to join.

"Oh! I know what we can do to pass the time!" Mercedes said. "We can tell ghost stories!"

Lysithea turned to stare at her in disbelief. Beside her, Ashe coughed. "I don’t know if that’s such a – "

"Ghost stories?" Flayn asked, eyes bright.

"Yes! It’s an old tradition. On dark nights like these, people sit around and tell each other their scariest stories. Usually they’re about ghosts, but they can be about all kinds of monsters! The important part is that they send a shiver down your spine." Mercedes laughed softly. Lysithea didn’t think she’d ever hated someone more.

"That is the tradition," Ashe agreed. "But maybe we should wait until we’re back at Garreg Mach, or somewhere else where it’s not so dark and cold."

"But Ashe!" Mercedes said. "The whole point of it is to tell the stories where they’ll be the scariest! It’s not nearly as much fun if we’re back at the monastery."

"I hadn’t heard of this tradition before," Seteth said. "It sounds intriguing, but I agree with Ashe. It’s inappropriate to tell such stories, given who is in this group."

Lysithea should have been grateful for the out, but she found herself bristling instead. "Hey! I’m not a child, you know!"

"I meant Flayn," Seteth said, "but now that you mention it..."

But Flayn waved them all off. "No, Brother, I won’t have you protecting me from mere stories!" She leaned in towards the flames, and Mercedes across from them, clapping her hands together excitedly. "Mercedes, please tell me your scariest, bloodiest, most horrific ghost story!"

"I-it doesn’t have to be the scariest!" Lysithea said. "Or the bloodiest! Maybe you can pick one that’s just a little scary, bloody, and horrific?"

"Hmm..." Mercedes rested her chin in her hand, seeming deep in thought. "Let’s see...have you ever heard the story of the wind wolves?"

Lysithea shook her head with everyone else, relaxing a little. A wind wolf didn’t sound so bad. If anything, it sounded less scary than a normal wolf.

"Once upon a time," Mercedes said, "there was a man who lived in Charon with his wife and three children. Now, it was a very difficult time for Fódlan as a whole and Charon in particular. They were in the third year of what would come to be known as the Ten-Year Drought. The Kingdom hadn’t yet split off from the Empire, but there was a lot of tension between the various regions, and no one was willing to help Charon. Everyone was always at least a little bit hungry, even the animals. Desperation drove wolves to wander the streets of towns and villages in search of food, and desperation drove people to do much worse.

"But the man and his family managed to get by just barely thanks to his wife’s constant, tireless spinning. Day and night, even when caring for her children or trying to find water, she spun wool into yarn. She would fall asleep with her spindle in hand and sometimes keep spinning even in her dreams. Her husband would then try and barter the yarn for food and drink. It was hard, since they had to feed themselves, their children, and their sheep, but they managed it for a long time. Until one day, the wife got terribly sick.

"She tried to keep spinning, even as she got sicker and sicker, until one day, she didn’t have the strength necessary to lift her spindle. She died that night."

"Oh, how awful!" Flayn said. "Is she going to become the ghost?"

Lysithea shushed her. Against her will, she was getting wrapped up in the story.

"No," Mercedes said. "The wife’s spirit was troubled, but ultimately she believed in her husband and in the Goddess. She was sure her husband would find a way to keep their children fed until the Goddess chose to bring rain down on Charon again.

"Her husband did try, but the longer the drought went on, the harder it was to find anyone who even _had_ food to sell. He was only one person; he couldn’t do everything he had been doing before and his wife’s spinning as well, and his children were still too small to be much help. He and his children got hungrier and hungrier until he feared that they would all perish. ‘Even the vicious wolves that haunt our streets look better-fed than us,’ he thought, and that’s when he got an idea.

"The next day, he took his youngest child with him when he went out. But instead of going to beg or barter for food, he went outside of town, to a plain just like this one. His youngest was just a baby, barely old enough to do more than smile at him, but she kept smiling when he put her down on the ground and walked away.

"It didn’t take long for the hungry wolves to smell the baby. A whole pack of them fell on her, crazed with hunger, and tore – "

"_Mercedes!_"

"Oops." Mercedes laughed. "Sorry, Seteth.

"The wolves ate the man’s youngest child as he walked away, and he told himself that he was being merciful. She died quickly, and now there was one less mouth to feed, so maybe the rest of his children would survive. And, indeed, things were better, for a little while."

"But they didn’t stay that way," Flayn guessed.

Mercedes nodded. "The drought still had seven years to go, and his remaining children were still suffering. He was suffering too – he made sure they ate before he did, and he felt as if he were going mad from hunger. But that still wasn’t enough. So one night, on a night just like this one, he took his middle child out to the plain and left him there.

"This one was a little bit older. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he was frightened. He cried out for his father, but his father kept walking away as if he didn’t hear him. He stood to run after his father, but he was so small, and very new to running.

"The wolves got there first."

"That’s awful," Ashe said quietly.

"Yes," Mercedes said, "but after that, things were better, for a little while. After all, it’s easier to feed two people than it is to feed four. But times were still hard, and the man eventually realized that there was no way for him to keep feeding both of them indefinitely. He had grown bitter because of the drought and blamed the Goddess for his own actions. It was easier than ever to take his oldest child with him out to the plain at night. He told himself that his remaining child wasn’t old enough to care for herself if he was gone, and he was doing the only thing he could. But he barely needed to justify it to himself. His child’s cries didn’t touch him at all as he walked away, feeling as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

"But this child was older than the others had been, and when he left her behind, she stood up and ran after him. She wasn’t as fast as him, but she was fast enough to keep him in sight almost all the way back. By the time she lost sight of him, she knew where she was, and she broke out into a run, sure she could make it home and things would be normal again.

"She made it to the street where her family lived. But it was late, and dark, and the wolves were too hungry to be afraid of people. They knew what to do with children who were out after dark.

"The child had just thrown herself at the door, begging her father to let her in, when the wolves lunged.

"The man heard his child cry out and did nothing. He had nothing but sweet dreams, and he woke up in the morning with a smile on his face."

"_Really_," Seteth said. "Mercedes, perhaps it would be best to end it here."

"We haven’t even gotten to the ghosts!" Flayn said, annoyed, before smiling brightly. She radiated a truly inappropriate amount of joy for the subject matter, Lysithea thought. "Please keep going, Mercedes!"

"There isn’t much left anyway, Seteth," Mercedes said. "After that, things were better for the man, for a little while. He got a lot of sympathy from his neighbors for the wolf attack that had killed his beloved daughter, because even though they were hungry, his neighbors still had kindness left in their souls. Their help made things easy for him for a while, and so did only having to feed himself. It was the first time in a long time that he didn’t feel hungry at all when he went to bed, and every night he felt nothing but content. He would have had the deepest, most restful sleep possible, if not for the wolves.

"Every night they seemed to get closer. Their howls kept him awake. He heard the scratching of their claws against his door, but when he went out in the morning to check, he saw no evidence anything had been there. He kept his sheep inside with him to keep them safe, but he still heard them scream one night, and when he went to check on them, he found they'd vanished. When he questioned his neighbors about the howls and his missing sheep, they stared at him as if he’d gone mad and told him they’d heard nothing and hadn't gone near his home. But still, the howls got closer and closer, until one night it seemed as if they were inside the house with him. ‘I can’t stand this!’ The man cried out, and he threw open the door to prove to himself that there were no wolves.

"But there were. Instead of the half-starved beasts that roamed the streets, before him stood three giant wolves made out of the very wind, whole and strong, with their eyes locked on him. When they howled, the man heard his children crying out for him in their voices, and he knew why these wolves had come for him.

"He ran back into the house, slamming the door behind himself. But the wind howled through the windows, and the wolves of wind stood once more in the home they’d shared as children with the man who had betrayed them between them. ‘Please,’ the man begged, like his children had begged him to take them, ‘please!’

"The wolves fell on him together.

"They were not hungry, and would never be hungry again. But the wind wolves still roam the world. Wherever you hear the howl of the wind, know that they’re out there, hunting. They might not be hungry, but they still know what to do with children who are out after dark." Mercedes smiled serenely. "The end!"

Ashe stared at her, hand frozen over his mouth. Lysithea couldn’t let go of her white-knuckled grip on her own coat, either.

Flayn clapped enthusiastically. "Oh, that was a wonderful story! Thank you so much for telling it, Mercedes. I think I understand this tradition now. I cannot wait to tell my own ghost story!"

Seteth cleared his throat. "Perhaps another night, Flayn. Right now, I think it would be best if we all got some rest. We’ll need to start walking early in the morning if we are to meet with the other groups at the appointed time."

"Seteth’s right," Mercedes said. "But I’m glad you enjoyed the story, Flayn! You’ll have to tell me one of your own when we get back to the monastery."

"Oh, I most certainly will!"

Lysithea heard Mercedes lie down, trying to get comfortable. On the other side of the fire, she heard Flayn telling Seteth he didn’t need to sleep so near to her, and Seteth's pleading response. But she wasn’t able to move until Ashe said to her, "Lysithea, were you going to lie down here? I know it’s cold out, but it shouldn’t be so bad near the fire."

"Yes," Lysithea said automatically. "This spot is fine! I can lie down and sleep right here."

She could hear how unnaturally high-pitched her voice sounded, and Ashe eyed her doubtfully, but he didn’t say anything about it. "Well, goodnight, I suppose."

"Goodnight," Lysithea said as she lied down.

For a long moment, it was quiet. The only sound was the crackling of the fire and the occasional shifting of her companions, until even those noises faded to nothing as they dropped off to sleep one by one. "Get a grip," Lysithea whispered to herself. It had just been a story. There was no reason to be scared. Who’d ever heard of anything as ridiculous as ghost wolves, anyway?

Then the wind picked up.

Lysithea gasped and clutched her coat as the fire sputtered, almost going out before it was able to recover. The air felt heavy and tense, and the wind howled through their makeshift campsite, making the firelight flicker eerily over them. Something else howled in the distance, and Lysithea tried to tell herself it was the same wild animals as before, but she thought it sounded like it was coming closer.

What spells worked on wind wolves? Would _any_ spells work on wind wolves, or would they pass harmlessly through them, leaving the wolves free to gobble her up?

Something shifted near her, and Lysithea nearly cast Miasma just in case before she realized it was just Ashe moving a little closer. "So, that was a really scary story, wasn’t it?" He said with a nervous chuckle.

"I guess," Lysithea said. "If you’re scared of that kind of thing, that is. I wasn’t scared." She was pretty sure Ashe couldn’t see how hard her hands were shaking with the fire flickering like that, so maybe he’d believe her.

"Oh," Ashe said. He was quiet for so long that Lysithea wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Then, "I was. Scared, I mean."

"You were?"

"Well...yeah. I’m pretty scared of ghosts," Ashe confessed. "And Mercedes is really good at telling stories. But if you’re not scared, I don’t want to bother you."

"I – " Lysithea faltered. Ashe hardly had any room to treat her like a child if he was scared, too. "...I might have been scared. Just a little, though!"

"Well," Ashe said. "If you’re scared, and I’m scared – I know we’re safe this close to Garreg Mach, and that the knights patrol this area regularly, so we should be fine. But just in case, do you maybe want to sleep in shifts?"

"In shifts?" Lysithea repeated. "You want to sleep while I’m awake?"

"And you’ll sleep while I’m awake," Ashe said. "I just thought – well, I know I’m not going to get any sleep otherwise after a story like that, and some sleep is better than none. You’re really strong, and I know I can count on you to have my back. I’ll definitely be able to sleep knowing that you’re watching out for us."

Lysithea stared at him. Ashe flushed and looked away. "I just meant...if you’re alright with me watching out for you, too..."

She’d been so worried about everyone in her new class thinking of her as a child. But Ashe sounded so genuine when he called her strong. There was no way he was patronizing her. "I’ll take the first shift," she said, sitting up.

Ashe brightened. "Really? Thank you so much, Lysithea! Please wake me up in a few hours – oh, let me get my bow ready so you don’t have to wait when we change shifts."

He carefully laid down his bow before lying down again so that it was in easy reach. "Thanks again, Lysithea. I really appreciate you doing this. You’re a good friend."

_I am?_ Lysithea nearly asked, startled by Ashe’s easy familiarity, but she bit down on it at the last moment. Instead, she took position scanning all around their campsite. They were wide open, and the wind kept changing directions, howling past her one way and then another in the very next moment. But Ashe was already falling asleep, curled up on his side, trusting her to protect him. There was no way Lysithea was going to let any wolves get through to him, or to any of them.

"I’m ready for you," she said to the wind. It kept blowing through her, eerily loud, but somehow it wasn’t so scary when she had people to protect.


End file.
